


7 to 11

by 234am



Category: Dissidia: Final Fantasy, Final Fantasy V, Final Fantasy VI
Genre: Bad Flirting, Bad Puns, Gambling, Heist, Nonbinary Character, Other, Poor Life Choices, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-13 00:31:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17477897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/234am/pseuds/234am
Summary: The worlds are one and everything has changed but Setzer prefers to think of it as greater opportunities for high risk, high reward gambles. He never accounts for Faris upending his plans, though.





	1. high roller

**Author's Note:**

> Aside from bad innuendo, this chapter is relatively work safe.

The cycles ended and the worlds collided. The gods and goddesses played their game so ruthlessly that all become one, never again to part.

For Setzer Gabbiani, this meant only that the landscape his airship flew over was both familiar and unfamiliar and that he never lacked for company. The worlds over had more than enough willing fools to gamble against him and gold was gold, whatever the face printed on the sides. Folks from worlds that used paper money were left out in the cold and that was too damn bad for them.

The _Red Dog_ made port somewhere warm and balmy. No one knew which world any place came from. Setzer assumed the locals sorted it out with their boring rebuilding committees and meetings and such. All he knew was that it was called Costa del Sol now and it had gold sand, blue ocean, and bared skin as far as the eye could see.

Wealthy, bored ne'er-do-wells flocked to the beach town with their pockets jingling. Hotels and restaurants lined every avenue, strung in twinkling electric lights. Casinos, amusement parks, and other tourist attractions vied for attention. At night, the whole town glowed neon and gold.

To put it simply, Costa del Sol and its gaudy cactuar-shaped neighbor looming on the horizon had become Setzer's favorite places in all the worlds.

He strode off his airship in his second best silks and left most of his jewelry locked away, all but the simple sapphire studs in his ears. The last touch was a knife affixed to his sash. It was important to look wealthy but not worth robbing.

After securing the airship and paying the fees to have it docked, Setzer ventured out into the city. He wove his way through throngs of people drifting from one nightlife venue to the next.

Outside of casinos, underdressed girls and boys both catcalled potential customers, promising them good odds inside. Setzer bypassed those. Any establishment that could afford to hire human directionals would not offer the kind of high stakes he sought.

Besides, there was a good chance the catcalls signaled that those establishments conducted the kind of business best done behind closed curtains, usually horizontal. Setzer had never in his life paid for those services and he had no intention of starting now.

On he wandered, past the seedier places near the port and up the Silver Strip.

None of the places that catered to politer company interested him. They would smile while they bankrupted him and then they would toss him out on his ear, none the worse for the wear. A predictable, boring outcome with little risk when he had ample funds stashed away should Lady Luck spurn him that night.

He found what he wanted on the far end of the Strip.

Here, the lights were gaudy and neon, casting the street in a strange, clashing cyan and magenta glow. Shadows pooled deep and welcoming between the buildings. Sometimes the ember cherries at the end of cigarettes bobbed down the dark, narrow alleyways, an insidious promise of delights best not sampled.

Open air stalls serving all manner of food and tacky souvenirs split the street down the middle in front of laundromats, convenience stores, and other small businesses.

The buildings jammed together to fill up every available space between alleys. Many of them were just large enough to seat six to ten people, which made them perfect for small, intimate restaurants and bars operated by chefs serving cuisines too niche for upscale locales.

Setzer chose a likely looking place with a wooden three-headed dragon hanging above its door. A blue neon sign flickering in a window proclaimed it to be _The Hydra_. It was a long, skinny building with seven stools lined up along an L-shaped counter. Shatter proof glass divided customers from the wait staff. It looked like the food and drinks came out on a conveyor belt.

All but two seats were taken. Setzer took the one at the very end, putting his side to the wall and his back to the corner. He nodded politely at his neighbors, then turned his gaze to the menu on the back wall.

The thing about this section of the Strip was that most of the businesses were fronts. If one knew the right codes, like ordering the correct items on the menu, doors opened up for a whole new avenue of play. Setzer did not know The Hydra's codes but he knew how to listen for patterns.

A gruff man with a huge, bristly black beard and a grease-stained apron moved to stand in front of Setzer. "What're ya havin'?" His voice was somewhat muffled by the shatter proof glass between them.

"What's the special?"

"Nothin' a prancy boy like you can stomach. Binned leftovers over easy."

"I see." Setzer rolled his hand and flicked his fingers out. A gold coin appeared between his forefinger and middle finger. He slid it through a small slot in the glass. "Then I'll have what's on tap to help me get up to snuff for your gastronomical disasters."

Guffawing, the man stumped over to fill a huge tankard with foamy yellow liquid. The foam sloshed over the rim as he slammed it down on the conveyor belt. The drink came scooting along to Setzer's side in moments.

"Ya get three refills offa that, pal. If ya ain't ordered nothin' else 'fore then, ya clear out."

"Understood."

The chef moved off before Setzer could thank him. Shrugging, he caught his drink from the conveyor belt and took a tentative sip. He expected cheap, sour beer but was pleasantly surprised to taste something fruity. An ale, then, and probably a local brew.

Taking his time to savor the drink, Setzer watched the other customers out of the corner of his eye. More than a few seemed to genuinely be there for the greasy grub and drinks. They lingered over their plates, tipped generously, then left, only to be replaced by other diners.

However, some came in and placed to go orders. The chef always rushed these orders. Setzer watched the greasy brown paper sacks drift by on the conveyor belt, curiosity piqued. The only pattern shared between the orders was that they were to go. It could mean nothing at all.

When he reached the bottom of the glass, Setzer set the tankard on the conveyor belt to return it. The chef hefted a new tankard, brows raised.

Nodding, Setzer waved him over. "A question, if I might."

After filling the tankard and sending it on its way, the chef came to stand in front of Setzer. "Yeah?"

"Do you have a separate takeout menu?"

The chef chortled at him. "Yeah, but if you're lookin' for food to go, there're better places. This shit don't reheat well."

"Duly noted." Setzer caught his drink before it could drift by. "And if I were looking for something other than food?"

"Decide y'were up to snuff, then?"

"That depends -- what are my odds of choking on whatever you give me?"

"The food won't kill ya but the locale might, if ya run outta coin."

"Fantastic." Setzer smiled, bright and toothy and full of brittle cheer. "Then give me your special to go, I've got a date with Lady Luck herself."

"Oh do you now?" a familiar, husky voice asked from behind him.

Setzer spun in his stool to find a lanky person in a long, dark coat embroidered in gold. Layers of mismatched silks, jewelry, and armor suggested their trade if the curved saber at their hip did not.

The night gained a new edge to it, one that sliced him right down to his core.

"Faris."

"Gabbiani." They leaned over Setzer, plucking the abandoned tankard from the counter. In doing so, their hair slipped over their shoulder and tickled Setzer's nose. Leaning back, they chugged half the ale in one go. They met Setzer's gaze as they licked the foam away from their lips. "Looking a little keelhauled."

"Still helping yourself to what isn't yours, I see."

"Pirate."

"I never would have guessed," Setzer said, flat, though he smirked. "Did you come to shiver my timbers?"

"That depends on what mischief you're up to. Off to lose the clothes off your back in some seedy gambler's den?"

"Order up, pretty boy!" the chef barked.

Behind Setzer, a grease stained bag appeared on the conveyor belt. He reached without looking to catch it. "As a matter of fact, yes. If I'm especially lucky, I'll lose a little dignity with some decent company, too."

"I don't know about decent, but I think I'll go along for the ride." Faris finished the ale off, then slammed it down on the counter. "Damn good grog as always, Lenny. See you!"

They spun away, a whirl of color and a distinct spicy scent that made Setzer's mouth water, and marched out of the restaurant. He fumbled a coin out of his pocket, flicked it through the slot in the glass, and then scrambled to catch up.

Faris was already heading down the street, their gait rolling and a little bow-legged from years of being aboard ships. Setzer fell in with them with a huff.

"Do you even know where we're going?"

"Of course, one of my old crewmates owns it."

"Ah, a den of pirates... I have no hope of walking away with anything, then, do I?"

Faris grinned at him. "Helps that you're in the company of the Captain. You'll get to walk away with your dignity, if only because I might claim it."

"The best booty for the captain, is it?"

"We--ll, I don't know about _best_."

Setzer narrowed his eyes. "I can go where I'm wanted."

"Shall I get down on one knee and lavish praise upon your posterior, Gabbiani?"

"...I would not be opposed, though this is hardly an ideal setting."

Laughing, they clapped him on the shoulder. "Maybe if you are especially good. I expect you to give the boys a run for their money."

"Should I play to win, then?"

"A pirate so does love treasure. Will you lay me down on a bed of gold?"

"If you like, though I suspect you've got a longer game in mind."

"We're still playing, you and I."

"Are we?"

"Unless you fold."

"To be frank, you've got me by the mainsails."

Faris laughed. "I haven't raised your mast already, have I?"

"I'm not _that_ desperate for your attentions."

"Well, we'll see."

Smiling a secret smile full of mischief, Faris turned down a dark alleyway. The distant glimmer of cigarette embers parted and faded away before them. Setzer chucked his takeout into a bin on the way by.

At the end of the alleyway, Faris banged their fist on a metal door. A slot opened up and a pair of beady eyes peered through, looking left, then right, before settling on the pirate in all their finery. There came an acknowledging grunt, then the slot slammed shut and the door opened to let Faris and Setzer through into a dimly lit, smoky utility room.

Fold out tables and chairs littered the room, most filled with surly men and women focused on games of mahjong. A few of the outlying tables harbored card games, though the chip piles on them were much smaller.

"Hullo, boss," the burly man at the door rumbled. "Y'playin' tonight, or issit collectin' time already?"

"Playing, so no need to stand at attention on my account."

The man sketched off a sloppy salute, then slouched into his chair by the door. He glowered at Setzer until Faris led him away.

"What's your preference tonight, Gabbiani?"

"Seems the favored game is Mahjong."

"Yes, but is that what you _want_ to play."

"I am, quite frankly, terrible at it." Setzer shrugged, hands spread. "So you should get the most amusement watching me fail."

"Then I should pit you against the toughest customers!"

"A crueler captain I have never known."

"Take your lashes without complaint and I may personally tend to them later." Faris grabbed him by the elbow and guided him over to a table near the center of the room. "Hello, gang! You got room for one more?"

The four people at the table--a man with an eyepatch and a scarf wrapped around his head, a woman with mechanical legs peeking out from beneath her skirts, an old guy in a dingy, patched suit, and a woman wearing too much perfume and fake jewelry--exchanged glances. The last of the lot nodded and conceded her seat with a syrupy murmur and a flutter of thick lashes.

Faris all but shoved Setzer into the seat, then grabbed one from a nearby table to pull it up. "Alright, play."

"Y'ain't joinin', Scherwiz?" the eyepatched man asked.

"I want to watch this fool flounder, first."

The woman with the mechanical legs tittered. "What, don't he know the rules?"

"I know them," Setzer said. "But I might not be skilled enough to keep up. I hope you'll humor me."

Snorting and grinning to reveal a mouthful of gold, the eyepatched man demanded, "Y'got coin?"

With a flourish, Setzer held his hand out over the table. Coins spilled out from his sleeve, tumbling over one another. Gold, silver, and copper of varying thickness from the worlds over made a pile bigger than any of the others on the table.

"Good!" the man in the suit crowed in a raspy voice. "Let's play!"

The group spilled the tiles out onto the table, face down, then shuffled them around. After stacking them into long, two high rows to form the pool, everyone took turns rolling dice to decide who would go first. It turned out to be the man with the eyepatch, which meant Setzer would go last.

One by one, they chose their first thirteen tiles. Then the game began with the eyepatched man drawing his first tile.

Looking at his hand, Setzer suspected he would lose the first few rounds.

He could feel the faintest nicks along the edges of the tiles, in the middle where white connected to the dark backing. The patterns were unfamiliar but he was sure a practiced hand could tell what each tile was even face down. It would certainly explain why each player trailed their fingers along the edges, lingering a moment more than necessary before choosing.

"So, are any of you going to introduce yourselves?" Setzer asked. He selected and discarded his first tiles, idly fiddling with the new one to familiarize himself with its hidden markings.

"No," growled the eyepatched man.

The woman smiled ruefully and held her hand out with the back presented as if they were meeting over tea. "Amna."

"A pleasure, I'm sure." Setzer took it and bowed over it, not quite putting his lips to skin. "Setzer Gabbiani."

"Don't get too cozy now," Faris warned, voice low. "Amna will make off with things more dear than your coin."

"Oh, how rude, to cast such accusations on my person!" Amna tittered.

Releasing Amna's hand, Setzer sat back to cross his legs. He told himself it was not because he was abruptly concerned Faris might be _serious_. "I'm afraid such valuables might already be spoken for, at any rate."

"Aw, that's too bad." Beaming, Amna nodded towards the man in the suit. "That's Mr. Chambers. And the surly one's Illoir."

Illoir sneered. "Hey, fuck off 'n play. This ain't a social!"

Clicking his tongue, Setzer took his turn. "Whyever are we playing together, if not to be sociable?"

Illoir just glowered.

And so it went: Illoir refused to talk; Amna chattered endlessly, always plying Setzer with prying questions he refused to indulge; Mr. Chambers kept to himself at first but slowly warmed up and proved himself to be quite the chatterbox after a few rounds; and Faris... well, Faris just watched, their secretive smile fixed in place.

Setzer lost multiple rounds and a sizable chunk of gold before he was finally confident he had the markings figured out. He eased into winning slowly, making sure to throw a few matches here and there to keep his prey lulled into a false sense of security.

Lifting his gaze from the table, he rocked a tile back and forth under his forefinger as he met Faris's eyes. At the slightest narrowing of those dark eyes, Setzer inclined his head. He knew Faris well enough by now to know when they were getting impatient.

Without further ado, Setzer proceeded to thoroughly trounce everyone at the table. He bankrupted Amna first, then Mr. Chambers. Illoir held out the longest, stubbornly glowering as he chewed at his cigar.

Finally, with a huge pile of gold in front of him and all players conceding defeat, Setzer stood and swept a bow. "Thank you, my lady, gentlemen, for humoring this novice. I believe I've learned much about how the game works."

"Fuckin' chea--" Illoir started to say, but at that point, Faris stood up.

Setzer glanced aside, at the fingers curled around the hilt of that wickedly curved saber. His smile became strained as he hastened to gather his winnings into his purse and pockets.

"I do believe I've overstayed my welcome and kept the good captain waiting too long. Excuse us!"

Later, after hustling Faris out of the den and onto the streets without getting stabbed or followed, Setzer breathed a sigh of relief.

"Should have let me gut 'em," Faris said. "Some nerve bringing up _cheating_."

"It was a crude ploy but not one that could keep me from your satisfaction."

Faris scoffed and the noise became low laughter. Their anger melted away. Tossing their head, they jostled against Setzer's side. "My satisfaction, is it? Do you mean to lay me down on a bed of gold, then?"

"If that's your desire."

"I'd rather a mattress, if it's all the same to you."

"The _Red Dog_ is rather cramped quarters, I'm afraid, I haven't finished renovations."

"Oh-hoh, are you more starved for coin than usual?"

"Hardly." Setzer threw his arm around Faris's shoulders and guided them off the Strip, onto one of the side streets where they might find an inn. "Rather, finding trustworthy folk to do the work in this brave new world of ours has proven something of a challenge."

"Hmm, that just sounds like an excuse to take me to some shady love hotel."

"I wouldn't dare insult your honor like that."

Incredulous, Faris gestured to themself. "What honor!"

"Pirate or no, you have a captain's honor."

"Keep telling yourself that if it makes it easier to get to sleep at night."

"We--ll," Setzer drew the word out, swiping his tongue against the inside of his cheek. "If it won't, I'm sure you'll be glad to help, since I've kept my end of the evening's arrangement up."

"You'll have to keep more than that up."

"Have you ever known me to disappoint?"

With a soft snort, Faris ducked out from under Setzer's arm and moved ahead. "If you intend to check us in somewhere, I'll need to go collect my things. It's not as though I can carry my third leg around."

"Why not, the rest of us do!"

Making a rude gesture, Faris veered off into an alleyway. "I recommend the Briny Bomb over on Angelo Avenue, if you're looking for someplace comfortable _and_ affordable."

"I'll see you there, then."


	2. could be mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW chapter -- contains: mentions of gender affirming surgery, vaginal fingering, strap-on with an insertion, fellatio on said strap-on, handcuffs, and anal sex.
> 
> Please note that Faris is nonbinary and afab and prefers both dick and vagina to refer to their bits.

Jingling down darkened streets with pockets full of gold made Setzer nervous. He walked out in the middle of the sidewalks, avoiding alleyways and people as best he could.

If he could have, he would have walked out in the middle of the road, but ever since the worlds merged, noisy mechanical machines in all shapes and sizes became the preferred method of ground travel. Chocobos were relegated to novelty and cross-country journeys.

Not that Setzer didn't admire some of the flashier modes of transportation people thought up. He particularly liked some of the hot rods cruising by with their tops down to expose scantily clad beauties of every gender to the glittering night sky.

But such distractions could not keep him from his destination.

Contrary to his expectations, the Briny Bomb was not a slovenly hovel shoved in some dark corner near the port. Instead, it was a curiously quaint little inn on a hilltop overlooking the beaches. Yellow roof tiles and sandstone walls made it look like it had been there long before the rest of the glitzy city. Maybe it had.

As far as Setzer understood it, as the worlds merged, everything didn't come together at once. Pieces rearranged themselves, gradually fading in bit by bit until whatever power brought it altogether dwindled.

He didn't like to think too deeply about whether anything--or anyone--had been lost in the process. The fact that the first thing he'd done after the last cycle ended was get in the air and hunt down each of his friends to check on them didn't count as thinking about it.

Proceeding inside, he continued to not think about it by way of dropping a handful of coins on the counter in exchange for a room key from the toothless, smiling old woman that ran the place. She had about six cats sprawled in her lap, under her feet, and over the counter. Setzer lingered long enough to scratch a spotty one under its chin, then headed upstairs.

Only as he was letting himself into the room did it occur to him to wonder whether any of those cats might be one of the bizarre sentient ones that could talk. No, he hadn't seen any as small as that yet, and most of the smart ones walked on two legs, as if to differentiate themselves from their ordinary brethren.

The mysteries of navigating potential snafus with sentient animals aside, Setzer glanced around the room he'd been assigned. A nice big bed with plenty of pillows and quilts, a privy and private shower--one of the modern conveniences from more advanced worlds Setzer was _exceedingly_ glad to have, and the usual sundry of dresser, table, chair, a window with a nice view. All nice and tidy, nothing stained or funny smelling.

Setzer shut the door, tossed the key on top of the dresser, and stripped on his way to the shower. He left all but his heavy, gold-filled coat and pouch strewn across the floor helter skelter. Those ended up draped over the bathroom sink where he could see them. And the knife, that he took with him into the shower.

Under the spray of steamy hot water, Setzer made good use of the courtesy soap to clean every inch of his scarred skin. Then he spent a little quality time attending to places he couldn't rightly use soap without deep regret.

He had not locked the door, assuming Faris might appreciate not being forced to pick the lock to get in. He never heard the door open and close, however, and the dark silhouette moving on the other side of the bubbled glass shower door startled him. Grabbing the knife, he sprang out, ready to defend his earnings.

Faris swung their arm up to deftly block with their jeweled vambrace. "Ha, such a lovely sight but a wretched greeting! Where _are_ your manners?"

Huffing, Setzer tossed the knife to the sink then reached to shut the shower off and grab a towel from the rack. "Likely wherever I left my pants."

"On the floor." Faris smirked. "It was too tempting a trail to follow, like blood in the water."

"Are you saying you're a shark?"

"I could be amenable to biting."

"As long as you don't stop moving," Setzer muttered, bending to wring his hair out and pat it dry.

Fingers walked along his spine. He shivered as he peered up through his damp hair. Faris watched him with heavy lidded eyes, dark as sin and twice as dangerous.

"Did you leave any hot water?"

"Should be plenty."

"Then quit being a layabout in _here_ and go be a layabout somewhere else. It's been a fortnight since I washed and I'm sure I've got salt crusting in unmentionable places."

"And yet you mention it."

Faris smacked their palm against his rump on his way out of the bathroom. "Sassy scoundrel!"

A black leather pack lay on the bed next to Faris's sword. Setzer shifted both off to one side so that he could stretch out with nothing but a towel preserving his dignity.

As was their wont, Faris took three times as long in the shower than Setzer had. He thought about calling for room service to bring some wine but truth be told, he knew Faris to be a bad idea when sober. No sense making it easy for them to get the better of him by getting tipsy, or heaven forbid, _drunk_.

The room had what the modernists called a teevee. Setzer did not care much for such devices. They tended to be loud and full of opinionated people airing their grievances to the public. Still, he eyed the remote, debating whether or not the annoyance was worth the distraction while he waited.

In the end, he abstained. He flopped flat on his back and threw one arm over his eyes. Recounting games recently played and successful capers, he wiled the time away until the sound of the shower faded.

He startled awake at Faris's voice a while later.

"You know, it's not such a great idea to leave your plunder with a pirate."

"Mmph."

"Getting old and soft on me, Gabbiani?"

Setzer propped himself up on his elbows, blinking away the drowsiness. Then he blinked again. Faris stood beside the bed in nothing but a towel around their hip, shoulders hunched and chin jutted.

Looking at their chest, Setzer blurted, "You have new scars."

"That's right." They straightened up, eyes narrowed to slits, as they thrust their chest out for inspection. "You have a problem with it?"

"I assume this is why I haven't seen you in ages."

"That's right. Finally found a modern doctor to do it."

"The whole thing?"

"At least the ladylike functions I don't need." Faris shrugged and tightened their grip on their towel. "I decided the rest was fine."

"No need to be shy on my account, then. Scars you've chosen to have are surely better than ones borne of foolish bets and luck gone awry."

Almost cautious, Faris approached the bed to kneel on the edge. They cast an appraising look over Setzer's body. "If you hadn't told me what a reckless moron you are, I'd have thought your collection quite dashing."

"Ouch, my pride."

"You're the one who always speaks of your escapades in a self-deprecating manner, not I!"

"Well," Setzer said, eyes slipping closed, "Some of us weren't given a heart filled with sunlight by the Lady Luck herself."

The mattress dipped at either side of his hips and shoulders. When he opened his eyes, it was to find Faris kneeling over him. Their wet hair hung swept over one shoulder, the curling tips just brushing his chest.

"Don't go getting so very maudlin and soppy on me now, unless you mean to share whatever drink you've got into."

"You stole it earlier, remember?"

"That weak piss couldn't have you swooning all this time."

"Maybe I'm just getting lonely, wasting away for your attentions."

"How terrible." Faris bent to brush their mouths together, a brief, chaste sampling of the pleasures to come. "How shall I reward your patience?"

Setzer reached to skim his palms along Faris's arms and shoulders. The touch raised gooseprickles on their skin. "I'm willing to bet you'll know just how to surprise me."

Quiet, Faris traced their fingers over the scars crisscrossing his face, a barely there touch that mapped out his measure. They cradled his face in their hands, thumbs against his cheeks. Then they bent to kiss him, deep and slow and full of such unspoken emotion that it made his head swim. If he didn't know any better, it was almost like they'd _missed_ him.

He wrapped his arms tight around their waist, relishing not just the kiss but the weight of them pinning him down. Though Setzer had two inches and at least ten pounds on them, they were all wiry muscle and sharp angles in a way that was exciting. He found he didn't miss the extra weight on their chest in the least; it meant it was easier to line their bodies up without discomfort on their part.

As their mouth wandered down the scars on his chin, jaw, and neck, his hands wandered down their back. He pushed his fingers up under the towel. Faris hissed against his neck when he got a handful of their firm rump and squeezed. Teeth scraped against his skin in retaliation.

"Ah! Getting cutthroat already, captain?"

Faris pushed themselves up on one elbow. "If you're going to get cheeky with me, I should put you to work belowdecks."

"Put me to work, captain."

Narrowing their eyes, Faris got up to their knees, then sank back to sit on his legs. The towel fell away, leaving them totally bared. Curly hair a little darker than the long pale blond spilling over their shoulders trailed from their belly button down to their groin. No hair on their chest, but plenty on their legs and under their arms.

Setzer hummed and skimmed his hands over their thighs. The view was very agreeable, he decided.

Regrettably, Faris did not allow him to enjoy it for long. They pulled away entirely, moving off to the end of the bed to rifle through their bag with their back to him. Setzer sighed mournfully.

"Oh, don't pout," Faris said.

"I'm not _pouting_."

He was. He really, really was.

It took some effort to school the downward turn of his mouth into something more neutral. While he struggled with that, he took the time to toss both towels to the floor, off in the general direction of the bathroom.

Faris smirked over their shoulder as they got a hair tie out of the bag and pulled their hair back into a tail.

"Not going to let the gold flow freely?" Setzer brushed a stray lock away from their face. "A pity."

"It gets in the way. I don't know how you can stand it."

"If you don't like it long, why don't you cut it?"

Faris tossed their head, nose upturned. "A pirate likes to feel the wind in their hair, you know."

With a laugh, Setzer scooted up behind them. He draped his arm around their middle and rested his chin on their shoulder. "Can't say I don't relate. It does tangle something fierce, though."

"At the speeds _you_ fly at, of course it would."

"You know, the modern airships put the bridge _inside_ and I just can't get behind it. It's far too safe and sheltered."

Groaning, Faris dropped their head back onto his shoulder. "Ugh, don't start us on this rant or we'll get stuck in the doldrums."

"You're the one who took the wind out of my sails, darling." Setzer kissed their shoulder. "I've nothing but time to wile away here."

"How terrible. Put those idle hands to use, won't you?"

"Aye, aye, captain."

Running his hands down their sides and belly, Setzer traced out lazy patterns with his fingers, keeping his touch light. He sought out the warmth of their inner thighs, urging their legs to part. There, he teased the tender spots he knew would make them shiver, all up and down their legs from the hip to mid thigh.

"Only going to tease today, you scallywag?"

"What's the hurry?"

Faris sat forward to grab their bag. They fiddled with the straps, suddenly tense. "...Well, of course I'm impatient," they said, after a moment, "You took _forever_ to finish your games."

"You could have asked me away sooner."

"Ha!"

Setzer smiled, small and tired.

They both knew what he was like when he became engrossed in his vice. Even if Faris had said something, he would have had a hard time letting go, no matter how tempting the alternatives.

"Alright, well, let me make it up to you."

"You're going to."

Faris pulled out a familiar canvas roll and undid the buckles on it. They flipped it out to unroll it, revealing the contents: two bottles of lubricant, a box of condoms, a box of dental dams, a pair of handcuffs wrapped in leather, a neat bundle of black straps and supple leather, and three prosthetic genitalia of varying size, color, and shape.

"Oh." Setzer hummed. "You got a new one."

Tracing their forefinger along the length of it, Faris said, "Celebratory prize after recovery."

"Normally I'd volunteer but that looks like rather a lot to take on without adequate preparation."

Faris only laughed and nodded, reaching for the flesh-toned piece Setzer was more familiar with. "Something safer, then."

"If you'll forgive me the moment of weakness."

"It's not weakness, knowing your limits." Faris pulled the piece out and dropped it on the bed beside them. "But mayhap I'll have you make it up to me anyway."

"Anything you like."

"On your knees, then."

"Here?"

"On the floor."

"Aye, aye." Setzer slid from the bed, kneeling beside it without an ounce of shame.

Faris eyed him, then gave a slight satisfied nod and pulled the folded up harness from the canvas roll. They slipped their legs into it but only pulled it halfway up, pausing to slot the chosen prosthetic in. It had a part that was to be inserted to allow Faris to feel the proceedings. Of course, they couldn't just jam it in there.

Leaning forward, Setzer tipped his head back, meeting their gaze. "Want some help?"

"That's the idea." Faris snagged one of the bottles of lube and propped it against their thigh. "So get to work."

The moment Setzer moved in between their legs, they sank their hands into his hair. He stilled, waiting until they had a good amount in one hand and could pull without yanking the roots too hard.

Then he went where they directed him, bending to lap at their skin on his way up to the harness. They didn't let him linger long. Insistent, they urged him up.

While he paid brief homage to the glory of their inner thighs, they fumbled at the bottle of lube one handed. Slick fingers went between their legs, rubbing into the dark curls. Spreading themselves with forefinger and middle finger, they worked either side of the small, dark head of their natural dick with the insides of their fingers.

Setzer reached the harness draped over their left leg. He slid his hands under their legs and urged their hips up off the mattress. Grinning, he took the harness in his teeth, pulling it upwards. He grabbed the other side of the harness to roll it up their other leg.

As his breath puffed against the crook of their leg and hip, Faris made a quiet noise, almost a whine. Their fingers moved quicker, in longer, lower strokes.

"You're not usually this needy, captain."

"...It's, nn, been a while, shut up."

Faris pulled roughly at his hair, yanking him more to the center. Setzer's lashes fluttered at the spike of pain and arousal lancing down to his groin.

He rose up on his knees with his hands braced on the mattress at either side of them. Holding their gaze, he bent to lick the tip of the prosthetic. Strictly speaking, it shouldn't have been anything exciting--just licking a piece of silicone--but the strangled noise they made was worth it.

Setzer took the head into his mouth, then pulled back, sliding his lips with a wet sound. Faris gasped like they could feel it. Glancing down, he saw them insert a finger in themselves. He watched them pump it in and out for a moment, then bent to take more of the prosthetic in his mouth, bobbing his head in time to Faris's movements.

"Oh-- damn, okay, mm."

Faris released Setzer's hair and pulled their fingers out of themself. He let the prosthetic fall from his mouth as they reached for it. Guiding the insertion end--which they'd once told Setzer was called a _pony_ \--to their groin, they teased it against themself.

To keep busy, Setzer traced his fingers up and down the outside of their legs. He trailed kisses along every available inch of skin.

"Ah!"

Faris's thighs clenched when they pushed the pony inside. Caught between them, Setzer leaned into the pressure with a devilish grin. Sighing raggedly, Faris sank back on the bed, laying flat with their legs akimbo and hands splayed over their thighs.

"Want help with the straps?" Setzer asked.

"Mhm."

They lifted their hips as Setzer pulled the harness the rest of the way up and secured it. He mouthed along the straps crisscrossing along their hips. Lazily, they petted their dry hand through his hair.

"Did you cum already?"

Faris scoffed, a weak little chortle. "No." They grabbed Setzer by the hair at the base of his skull and dragged him until he was face to face with the prosthetic. "Finish what you started."

"As you like."

Gripping the prosthetic at the base, Setzer mouthed his way up the shaft to the tip. As he took it in his mouth, he began to stroke his hand up and down. He made sure to jostle it more than he would an ordinary penis, which rocked the pony buried deep inside Faris.

Their fingers tightened in his hair with a quiet groan. Then they pushed at his head, rolling their hips. He let his jaw go slack and relaxed as they fucked into his mouth shallowly. All the while, Setzer held their gaze, reveling in the sheer hungry want in their dark eyes.

"So, mm, obedient," Faris panted. They released him and pulled out of his mouth with a wet pop. "What reward shall I give you?"

Setzer licked his lips. "You could let me back in the bed, for a starters."

"Rug burn's a nice look on you, though."

"As much fun as I'm having unraveling you like this, it's a little too one-sided to make rug burn worth my while."

"I can tell negotiations are starting to fall apart on this front," Faris murmured. They patted the bed next to them. "I might have to throw you in the brig for insubordination."

Climbing up onto the bed, Setzer sprawled next to them with one arm under his head and posed artfully. "For protesting cruel treatment after my service?"

Faris leaned close to whisper conspiratorially, "It's mostly an excuse to put you in handcuffs, you see."

"How naughty." Setzer put his hand against their cheek and coaxed them down for a kiss. "But are you going to leave me trussed up and helpless with no way out, like last time?"

"On my honor, I would never."

"The honor of a pirate."

"A pirate _captain_."

"Ah, yes. I'd almost forgotten."

Faris nodded. "So, move your rear if you want me to do all the work."

"Where to, captain?"

They gestured towards the headboard as they retrieved the handcuffs from the bag. Setzer squirmed up that way, his eyes on the swaying cuffs. He shoved the pillows around to make a comfortable backrest.

Instinct screamed at him--a hot bite at the back of his neck that spread down like fire. He knew it to be a very bad idea to put his wrists against the headboard, to let them cuff him to it, but his cock pulsed with excitement at the prospect. He was a prisoner to that desire and to their whims.

Faris smiled into the kiss they pressed against his mouth. They looked very pleased indeed as they licked, sucked, and bit their way down his neck and chest. Each of his scars got particular attention and gained new red marks. Setzer could do nothing but surrender to it, panting and gasping.

They shoved his legs apart then pulled him onto their knees. Reaching behind them, they fumbled for the canvas roll to drag it over.

While they fished out a condom and more lube, Setzer was left exposed and wanting. He squirmed until they smacked their hand against his thigh, just hard enough to sting but not enough to leave a mark.

"Cruel!" Setzer yelped.

Faris clicked their tongue. "Just give me a moment to find our bearing, won't you?"

"Excuse me for feeling nervous."

"Nervous?" Faris lowered their hands, condom and lube suddenly forgotten. "You're nervous? About what?"

"...Now I'm feeling foolish, also."

"Setzer."

Gaze averted, Setzer exhaled sharply through his teeth. His voice was not as steady as he liked when he admitted, "Well, you've got me all nicely trussed up here, on display like one of your gaudy treasures."

Saying nothing, Faris leaned forward to release one of his wrists from the cuffs. As they reached for the other, Setzer laid his hand over theirs to stop them.

Their gazes met.

"Just one is enough."

"Are you certain?"

Setzer nodded.

"Tell me if your heading changes."

"But of course."

Oddly gentle, Faris pressed a kiss to his forehead, right along the horizontal scar running from his temple. He blinked at that, suddenly feeling out of breath and dizzy for reasons he could not name.

And then he was out of breath for reasons he _could_ name, as Faris spilled lube over their fingers, rubbed them to warm them up, and then pushed them between his legs.

They teased the tender skin behind his balls before going lower. The finger at his hole rubbed a circle, smearing lube everywhere, before easing in. Setzer did his best to not tense up.

He did not need a lot of prep--one finger was enough, but Faris made sure to introduce plenty of lube. Some of trickled down overheated skin. The feel of it made Setzer squirm, toes curling.

Almost conversationally, Faris asked, "Are you ready?"

"Yes! Please... carry on."

Chuckling, Faris wiped their hand off on the bedding. Then they opened a condom packet and quickly rolled it on. A little lube to coat the outside, then they, too, were ready.

They braced their hand on the bed beside Setzer's hip and leaned forward. With their other hand, they urged one of Setzer's legs to fold up and spread. He did the same with his other, and once Faris pressed closer, he hooked his ankles over the backs of their legs for support.

Faris watched his face closely as they guided the tip against and into his hole. There was the faintest discomfort for being stretched and not a lot of sparks to speak of yet. Setzer draped his free arm around their shoulder, hand splayed against their back, silently urging them to keep it coming.

They did, in quick, shallow little thrusts, working deeper and deeper. Both of their hands ended up on the mattress, caging Setzer in as they rolled their hips. Setzer dropped his head back against the headboard, sighing as the discomfort gave away to a rocking pressure, pleasant and warm.

When they sank into him totally, their mouth found his neck.

"Mm..." Obligingly, Setzer tilted his head to give them better access. "You planning on moving anytime soon, captain?"

"Say my name."

"...Faris."

His reward was the feel of them slowly pulling out, all the way to the head. The slow drag against his insides stole his breath away. He gasped sharply and arched when they rocked back in all at once.

"Again," they demanded, their breath a hot gust against his neck.

"Far--" Another slow, hard thrust. "-- _is_!"

They made no further demands. They had no need to. He gasped their name with each thrust, echoed by the bed thumping against the wall, the handcuffs jangling.

The pace steadied out into one continuous wave of pleasure brought on with each roll of their hips.

Setzer's voice failed him but for choked off gasps and moans. He dragged his fingers across their shoulders as he felt the familiar tightening in his balls, the tingling numbness that spread everywhere, leaving him unable to feel anything but the electric buzz of pleasure radiating from his core.

As much as he didn't want it to end, he _needed_ it, that release lurking just out of reach. He whined, long and low.

Above him, Faris groaned. Their forehead came to rest against his collarbone as their thrusts became more erratic.

"Touch yourself," they growled, breathless. "Cum for me."

Dropping his arm, Setzer took himself in hand. His strokes were loose and sloppy but he didn't need much more. The tension built and built, and he could feel Faris shuddering, moaning against him as they finished before him.

Then he, too, came apart.

Later, when his vision stopped sparking and his head stopped spinning, he became vaguely aware of a towel being swiped over him, of blankets being pulled over his body, and of the sound of metal jingling, the last of which made little sense to his addled brain.

Then Faris kissed his forehead again and murmured something. He didn't understand why they sounded so apologetic.

Not until morning, when he found them, the gold, _and_ his airship gone.


End file.
